


The Consulting Babysitter

by derekstilinski



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock is a great uncle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Greg and Mycroft take a well-deserved holiday, they leave their daughter in the care of John.</p><p>Sherlock takes over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Consulting Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this done for a long time, but never posted it, I kept fiddling with it too much. I think it's time now. Ella should be about six months old, maybe? I originally made her much younger but changed my mind. Any mistakes are my own, I haven't been around babies for a few weeks so I forget what exact milestones they pass at a certain time.

John watches as Greg settles the diaper bag onto the kitchen's counter. He's probably very happy to see them with no odd Sherlock experiments laying about, the nice clean surfaces that are completely safe.

"She needs a nap around eleven every day, and she must be burped before she sleeps, even if she doesn't want to. Use the chart I made for how to fix her bottles, and use warm water. Warm, not hot. Test it first... John, shouldn't you be taking notes?" Mycroft continues to ramble off things to John that he already knows.

"Mycroft, I think you forget I'm a doctor," John holds his hands out for the little bundle nestled in Mycroft's arms, "Let us see, then. You've got a train to get to."

Mycroft looks hesitant, but after a quick glance to his husband, he carefully hands their baby to John, "You will follow my instructions, won't you? I don't need to tell you what happens if you don't."

"Mycroft," Greg squeezes his arm, "It's all alright, dear. John will take good care of Ella."

"I'm sure you're right, it's just the matter of my little brother. He was never very... sociable with children, let alone an infant like Ella." Mycroft holds his umbrella in both hands now, nervously fiddling with it.

"I'm sure I'll be doing most of the work," John says, cradling little Ella who's just coming out of being asleep. He rubs softly at her cheek, smiling, "Just go enjoy your time off. I've got things here."

"Thank you, John," Greg steps closer and kisses his daughter's forehead, "We'll see you in a few days. Call if you need anything at all."

John nods, letting Mycroft fuss over Ella and her blanket just a little more, "Yes, yes. Have a good time." He watches them leave, then moves Ella's car seat over by his chair, situates a few toys and pacifier within arms reach.

Sherlock sticks his head out of his bedroom after a few moments, "They're gone, I presume."

"Yes, Sherlock." John watches fondly as Ella wakes, yawning and her eyes fixing on John. He gives her a smile, "Tell me again. Why weren't you out here when they dropped her off?"

"Because my brother and I are fighting." Sherlock says moodily, shuffling around in the kitchen behind him.

John rolls his eyes, "Alright. That's vague."

"Mm." Sherlock comes around with a cup of tea, eyeing the infant and John before sitting across from him, pulling his feet up onto his chair.

It's silent for a long while, the only things breaking it being Sherlock's sips and Ella's soft coos. John can feel Sherlock looking at him over the rim of his cup, intently and without waver. Sherlock points at his niece, "So, she's here, then?"

"Yes. Yes, Sherlock, she is." John peeks up at him then, gestures out to see if he wants a turn to hold her, "Would you like to...?"

"No." Sherlock curls more into his chair. John nods and doesn't say anything more.

\--

Later, after Ella's fast asleep, Sherlock leans over John's shoulder, "We're out of milk."

John pauses in typing on his laptop, "Okay, love. I'll do the shopping tomorrow."

"I need it now."

John turns his head, "Sherlock, Ella is sleeping. I can't take her out for shopping now, she's just settled down."

"Why does she have to go? It's not like she can pay for it, or carry it. She's an infant, John." Sherlock says, and John rolls his eyes.

"Yes. She's an infant so I have to keep an eye on her. You can't just leave a baby alone." John explains, and Sherlock makes a face at him.

"...I'll watch her, then." Sherlock pushes his card at John.

John moved to face him, a little worried, "Sherlock, have you ever interacted with infants? What do you do if she cries?"

"Make her stop crying." Sherlock tells him, then grabs his coat, pushing it into his arms.

John sighs, "Sherlock--"

"Go get the shopping, John." Sherlock pulls John from the chair, escorting him to the door.

John puts on his shoes and coat, but hesitates after. He looks at Sherlock, "...Okay. Call me if something happens, and just be careful."

"Of course, of course. Yes, now go." Sherlock gives him a quick kiss before all but pushing him out the door.

After, he pulls his chair closer to Ella and leans down, letting one of his fingers touch the back of her hand. He's tentative, but when she doesn't wake he wiggles his finger into her palm, her fingers instinctively holding on tightly. The corner of his mouth twitches up, "Reflexes good."

He watches her sleep, watches her toes wiggle when he touches her bare feet, rubs her chubby little cheeks. Then when she does stir, making a little whimpering sound, he picks her up. He leans back in his chair, holding her to his chest. She squirms and shoves her face into his shirt a few times, before  opening her eyes to sleepily look around. Sherlock goes still all at once, and watches her sigh and make a little fist in his shirt.

He pats her back softly, "You should probably go back to sleep."

She kicks his leg a few times and turns her head before finally deciding she's comfortable. Sherlock looks down to see she's fighting to keep her eyes open. He continues to pat her back, rubs in slow circles, "Stop that."

Eventually she does give in. He sits there with her for a while, and hears his phone buzz multiple times, but just ignores it. When he hears John's cab stop outside, he settles her back into her cot and curls up in his chair.

"Sherlock?" John quickly comes up the stairs, and looks agitated when he sets eyes upon them, "I phoned you."

"Yes."

"You knew, and you didn't pick up?"

"It was out of my reach."

"I phoned to check up on you. Five times, Sherlock. I was worried." John's jaw clenches, and he shifts his weight to his other foot.

"I'm fine."

John raises his arms, "I was worried about the baby!"

Sherlock looks to Ella, then back at John, "She's fine."

"God," John rolls his eyes, "I didn't know that for sure. Hence the phone calls. That you didn't answer. Because you couldn't be bothered to move three feet. I bet you didn't move at all while I was gone. Just stared at her, did you?"

John stomps his way into the kitchen and Sherlock watches him shove the milk carton into the fridge. He watches John moodily take off his coat and shoes, mumbling to himself all the while. Sherlock catches something he says and shrugs, "I usually don't pick up the phone and talk to you. I do prefer to text, you know this."

"Yes, but I wanted to hear your voice, as sappy as it is. I can't be sappy with you, can I? It's--Jesus, you know what? No. I'm not going to do this. I've got the milk, I'm going back to work." John says, and gives a quick glance to Ella as a check before settling down in his seat in front of his laptop, "You're welcome, by the way."

Sherlock lets John settle into his work again before getting up. He takes the milk from the fridge and makes them both hot chocolate, crushing pain killers and slipping them into John's cup. John's hitting keys a bit harder than he should be when Sherlock comes up behind him, setting a warm cup down next to him. He presses a soft kiss to John's cheek, "Thank you."

John glances at the cup and visibly softens, sighing, "Sherlock..."

"I will read to you before bed, if you wish. To hear my voice." Sherlock offers softly, going to sit in his chair again, mug held in both hands as he settles eyes on Ella again, watching secretly fascinated for any movement while she dreams.

John scrubs a hand over his face, "I went a bit overboard there, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you had cause," Sherlock sips at his drink, "Volunteered responsibility over my niece. That, and your shoulder's acting up again. I understand."

John looks at the mug of hot chocolate next to him, and it seems Sherlock does understand. He's trying to provide comfort. John sighs, "I'm sorry."

"Just go back to writing on your blog and drink your hot chocolate. I'll want to play scrabble later."

\--

John's been asleep for exactly seven minutes before Sherlock gets up from bed, over to Ella's little cot they've settled in their room. He sits down on the floor and watches her sleep, reads to her, tells her about bees and tobacco ash and how soft John's favorite sweater is. He has two cups of tea and goes on for hours about her father, what Mycroft was like growing up. He tries not to say any bad words.

When he's said his fill, he yawns and puts his dishes in the sink, then drops a kiss to Ella's forehead before crawling back into bed.

\--

John wakes up in bed alone, not surprising. He pulls himself from the warmth of the blankets and looks to Ella's cot. Empty. Now, that's surprising. He immediately thinks the worst and runs out of the bedroom, "Sherlock! Sherlock, Ella's--"

"Good morning, John." Sherlock looks up from the breakfast table, already pouring John a cup of tea. One hand on the kettle while the other holds Ella, gnawing on one of her teething toys.

John's whole body flushes with relief, shoulders relaxing. He takes a step forward to make sure he's not seeing things, "Good... Good morning."

"You normally get dressed before you come out here, unless you plan to seduce me. If you are, push it to twelve after eleven this morning, that's when I'm free." Sherlock says, turning towards the kitchen counter.

John blinks a few times, then chuckles, "I'll make a note of it... Sherlock, why have you got the baby?"

"We've set a deal in place. I hold her and she doesn't cry." Sherlock explains.

John nods after a moment, "I just thought babies weren't your area."

"They're odd. At least, this one is. She keeps smiling at me. Why's she keep smiling at me?"

John can't hold back a smile of his own, shakes his head and turns to go get dressed. When he comes back from the bedroom, there's a plate for him already there, and Sherlock is sitting across the table, waving a half empty bottle at Ella.

"Would you like to try this again?" He asks, then tries to have her start eating again. This time, she takes to it. He nods to her, "That's a wise choice."

John settles into his seat and observes the two while he eats, how Sherlock will talk to her in his normal voice about things like cases, or the weather. When he looks up at John, he sits her up a little.

"See, that's what I was talking about," he eyes John's sweater, "It's that one."

"That what?" John asks, looking himself over, then even behind himself, "Sherlock, what are you talking about?"

"I was telling her about your jumper," Sherlock explains, then gets up when John's laptop starts beeping in the other room. He seats himself, and puts Ella in his lap, answering Greg's video call, "Lestrade, shouldn't you be not talking to me?"

"Sherlock?" Greg tilts his tablet just to make sure, "Where's John? And my daughter?"

Sherlock pushes the laptop to the side, showing a view of John sipping tea at the table, "John," He pulls it back, lifts Ella up, "Daughter."

Greg smiles, "Hello, darling! Your father and I miss you very much!"

Sherlock cradles her, "She doesn't understand you, you know."

"She knows my voice, Sherlock. She knows what her Pops sounds like." Greg says, and Sherlock observes her, watching her smile at the screen and grunt happily. Sherlock holds her to his chest, patting her back.

"Yes, well... What do you want?" Sherlock leans back, listening to Ella coo by his ear.

"I wanted to check up on her." Greg explains, and the camera moves, Mycroft coming into view.

"How is she? How--Why's Sherlock holding her?" Mycroft leans in close to the screen, "Why are you holding her, Sherlock? Where's John?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me why I'm holding her?" Sherlock rolls his eyes, "John, does no one have common sense? She's a baby, babies are supposed to be held. What do you they want from me?"

John just shrugs. Ella coos and turns her head against Sherlock's shoulder, drooling onto his shirt. He turns her around and guides the teething ring back to her mouth. Mycroft looks like he's about to pull something, "Have you been feeding her? Is she alright? Are you holding her right? Sherlock, if you make her an experiment, I will--"

"Please do shut up, brother. I'm not an idiot." Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"Aren't you?" Mycroft snaps at him, only fearful Sherlock isn't equipped to care for an infant.

Sherlock frowns and stands up, walking away from the computer, "Ella, it's time for music. Would you like that?"

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" Mycroft yells, and John gets up and quickly gets to his laptop.

Sherlock ignores everyone but Ella as he gets his violin case, sits Ella on the couch with pillows surrounding her. She's doing very well with sitting up but he takes the precaution, anyway. He can hear John trying to calm his brother down, and sits on the coffee table, getting together his violin before softly starting to play. Ella babbles when Sherlock plays, and it makes him smile, "Are you trying to sing along? That's very good, carry on."

John looks over at Sherlock, and Mycroft is silent before saying gently, "Turn it around."

John does, tilting the screen so Greg and Mycroft can see Ella reaching up for Sherlock, and Sherlock leaning down so she can touch. She grabs at his violin, fingers holding down a few strings, making the instrument give a sour sound. She pouts and Mycroft is just about to launch into a speech about how much he doesn't like it when she cries, when Sherlock moves her hand.

"Oh, that won't do, will it?" He rubs her cheek, then plays her something sweet and quiet. Ella takes a few moments, but looks at ease, crisis averted.

Greg smiles fondly, squeezing Mycroft's hand, "I think she'll be okay, dear."

\--

John carefully washes Ella up in the kitchen sink, and she doesn't like it. It starts with the pouting, then the unhappy grunts, then full crying. He tries to finish quickly, and tries to soothe her. Sherlock is there in an instant, papers he was reading falling to the floor in the living room, "What happened?"

"She spit up everywhere, Sherlock. I was trying to clean her up, but she doesn't seem to like a bath." John says, hurrying to get the soap off her. Sherlock just takes her from John's hands, up out of the water, holding her to his chest. John moves to grab a towel, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock takes the towel, covers her up and moves swiftly away from the sink, "Quiet."

John dries his hands and follows him, watching him make a detour to the bathroom, then to their room. Sherlock tries closing the door but John forces his way through, "The bubbles are still on her. Sherlock, you can't just grab her when you see fit... Are you listening?"

Sherlock takes the wet cloth he took from the bathroom, cleaning the bubbles off Ella, rocking her in an attempt to quiet her down, "It's alright, dear. You can stop crying... _Please_ , stop crying."

John softens a bit, "Sherlock, are you alright?"

"She shouldn't be crying. I made a deal with her." Sherlock wraps her back in the towel, holds her close.

"She's a baby, she gets upset easily." He explains.

"No." Sherlock reaches over and grabs his phone, turning on soft violin music. Ella turns her head, tears still falling, but sobs quieting. Sherlock kisses her head, patting her back, "It's all right, now. We'll... John will get you clothes. John?"

John nods, getting her diaper bag from the sitting room. He brings it to their room, kneeling down with it on the floor to start getting out clothes. Sherlock looks worried, fussing over Ella, and gives up his spot on the bed for John. He lays Ella down and gestures to her, "Will you? I don't want to make her cry again."

John gets Ella into a diaper and set of clothes, "You didn't make her cry."

"I did. I wasn't there. I was letting the part of my deal slip." Sherlock changes his shirt, hesitates for a moment before pulling on a t-shirt, one of his softest. He doesn't care if his outfit doesn't match, he thinks she'll like this shirt better. When Ella's dressed and sniffling, Sherlock picks her back up, and seems to relax when she rests on him, quieting down.

John rubs circles into Sherlock's back, "She just doesn't like water. Mycroft mentioned it in the list he emailed me."

Sherlock nods, "It's okay... A game of Cluedo will be just what she needs."

John follows when Sherlock moves from the room, "She can't have the pieces, Sherlock. She'll choke on them."

"Why would I let her have the pieces? She likes the cards."

The Cluedo cards end up rather soggy.

\--

Mycroft almost breaks into their flat when John doesn't answer the door fast enough. He storms in with his jacket billowing around him, looking around with an expression that could burn things down, "Where's my daughter?"

"Hello to you, too. Good holiday?" John's still kind of tired, having only gotten out of bed when Mycroft pounded on the door.

"It was good, thank you." Greg says, looking apologetic. John waves him off, he understands.

John gestures toward the bedroom, "Sherlock has Ella in there. She woke up early this morning crying, and Sherlock has a thing about her crying."

Mycroft doesn't wait for John to lead him, goes right in and sees Sherlock dozing in bed, Ella fast asleep on his chest. He looks at John, "I thought you said she was crying."

John shakes his head, "She was. And then Sherlock held her, talked to her--About you, actually. He put on some music and she was fine."

"What kind of music?" Greg asks, taking a picture of Sherlock and Ella with his phone.

Sherlock holds up a flash drive, not bothering to open his eyes, "Me. Play them when she gets fussy, she likes them."

Mycroft takes the flash drive, even if he looks like he doesn't want to. He fiddles with it, "Well... She's not hurt, so I guess you did something right," Sherlock grins and he rolls his eyes, takes Ella and holds her close, "Oh, shut up."

Sherlock grunts, opening his eyes and sitting up. He stands and glares, before leaning to place a kiss on Ella's head. He steps back and nods, "There. You can take her back, I guess."

Greg holds back a smile, "You want me to send you a copy of this photo?"

Sherlock shrugs, face going neutral, "If you'd like."

Sherlock frames the photo, sets it by the bed, and frequently steals Ella from her babysitter until Mycroft gives him the job.


End file.
